The Fox of '56

Deception Lurks in the War-Torn Streets of Budapest

In 1956 as Hungarians mount their revolution against the Soviets, CIA agent Henry Caldwell is sent to Budapest to monitor activities. But when he sees Katalin, the love of his love who disappeared four years ago, he’s confused. Through the war-torn streets, Henry finds himself in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse where trust is scarce and survival uncertain.

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Chapter 14

I don’t remember how I got there but I recognized the narrow alley and the back entrance to the Café Hungaria. I leaned against the faded red door for a minute to shake off the nausea. The big guns of menacing Soviet tanks were spraying bullets a block away. The echo of the concussions against stone buildings made my head throb more than it should. I pressed the lump on my head and was surprised to see my palm covered with a pad of blood.

Not only was I sick to my stomach, but I was growing sick of the daily barbarism I witnessed unleashed on an innocent people who simply wanted freedom. I guess I was naive to think I could avoid the ferocity and simply observe and report on the chaos and destruction from a distance. But now that the brutality had found me—literally hit me on the head—I felt a new resolve to right this wrong, even if I could direct my energy at saving one life, like Dr. Vadas, I had to do more to expose this Russian lie that communism was a stable way of life.

I staggered into Steve’s tiny office at the back of the restaurant. The cluttered room had space enough for a small desk littered with papers and invoices, two coffee house chairs, a faded and dinged wood cabinet. Steve’s office was also the dumping ground for broken dinnerware, cracked cups, and old menus, which I couldn’t read. A half-corked bottle of Tokaji, a sweet Hungarian wine with a long history, beckoned me. Steve had offered me a taste once during his birthday celebration after hours when the last guests had departed and the wait staff had gone home. It was just Steve, his wife, Maria, and me. In a toast, Steve said, “I’m aging like fine wine, getting better with time.” Maria’s playful retort was “Old wine is better.” I found a glass and helped myself, took a sip, and immediately fell sleep.

How much time passed I can’t say but Steve shook me awake. “You look like day-old horse shit, my friend. What happened?”

I relayed how I had found Kat’s father but Orlov and his men also found us and took him away. Kat, too.

Steve peered at the top of my head. “And you paid for your interests, I see. Oh, that must hurt.” He ran out and returned with a towel filled with ice. “Here. Hold this on your bumpy.”

He brought the other chair around from behind his desk, kicked away a stack of small boxes, and sat in front of me. “I should report this to headquarters. Our orders were to observe and gather intelligence. Not get involved in violence,” Steve said.

“I doubt they’ll give a shit. They’re so focused on the Suez Canal they’re not returning my messages. Even Reuters is giving more time and space to the Suez story than to Hungary. Hungary is screwed and we’re screwed if we don’t find Orlov fast.”

Steve jumped to his feet. “You stay here. We close in few minutes. Maria will look after you. I run to the American Legation offices and send telex to our father.”

He liked to refer to our superiors at CIA as “our father.”

I was in no condition to resist. The one thing in our favor was the six-hour difference between Budapest and Washington, D.C., meaning his message would arrive in daytime there and Steve’s report might get seen. But I frankly didn’t expect them to reply or offer support. I sipped more Tokaji and again fell asleep.

When I awoke, Maria was tying her scarf around my head to hold the ice pack in place. Steve stood soberly behind her “You look like peasant Russian woman now,” she said her eyes twinkling.

“Maria. Your hands. What happened?” Burn marks were visible on the backs of her hands.

She looked at Steve. He looked away.

“Maria. What is it?”

She lowered her eyes. “The AVH. They used lighted cigarettes.”

“Why on earth?”

“I helped one of our dishwashers escape over the border. A beautiful girl. Seventeen.”

“And they arrested you?”

“No. Just detained me. They tried to force me to admit what I did. I lied and told them I didn’t know the girl. That’s when they burned me.”

“Oh, my God. Steve, we have to get these bastards.”

He shrugged. “Easy to say. Hard to do.”

Maria patted my hand. “Don’t go away. I bring you food.”

After she left, Steve sat heavily in the tiny chair.

“She okay?”

“Yes. She strong woman.”

“I thought you were going to send a telex. Why haven’t you left?”

He smiled wistfully. “You fell asleep, my friend. I’ve been gone two hours. The fighting around the Legation building is intense. Bullets fly through windows like flies. I laid on floor to send telex. Not easy, my friend. I have hard time typing while sitting.”

“And you gave up after they failed to respond.”

He studied his shoes. “No. No. They answered.”

“Well, what did they say?”

He cleared his throat. “They think you are liability and should proceed no further.”

“What? Why that’s bullshit. Do they know about Dr. Vadas and Orlov?”

“Of course. I describe everything. I even say to them listen the stakes have risen to life or death for Dr. Vadas and future of nuclear war race.”

“And for this, they think I’m a liability?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, my friend.” He poured himself some Tokaji.

“Then, are they sending more agents? We have to find Dr. Vadas and get him out of Hungary before the Russians.”

He shook his head. “No. Our father says he no have resources now. Our orders are to stand down. Funny this saying. Like “lie up.” Our father is most confusing.”

“Steve. I need a gun.”